


Wishes can come True

by mm8



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Translation Available
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-08
Updated: 2012-12-08
Packaged: 2017-11-20 15:38:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/586950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mm8/pseuds/mm8
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lestrade and Mycroft ponder if Sherlock will change over the course of the new year.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wishes can come True

**Author's Note:**

> Now translated in Chinese [here](http://ethannolever.livejournal.com/674.html) by [ethannolever](http://ethannolever.livejournal.com/).

The young Detective Inspector curtly nodded at the concierge who welcomed him back. He waved at a couple other residents who he knew by face only, and said hello to the ones he knew by name. With the crowd, he walked into the large elevator and requested for someone to press for the pent house, his floor. 

He made general observations of the other passengers. There was an elderly, Asian lady who lived on the third floor. She was carrying shopping bags full of cat food. Lestrade knew that her name was Jie and she had been widowed some years ago. Her mind was starting to go. She talked as though her husband was still alive and even though she bought enough cat food to feed a shelter, she didn't own a single cat. He bowed slightly and said goodbye in her native tongue as she exited the lift. 

The next ones to get off were two college students. How they were able to afford this place he wasn't sure. Posh parents, he supposed. They didn't dress or act like they came from a rich family. Both boys, early twenties, who were gabbing on about some mathematics exam, were dressed in dark clothing, had spiked hair and each had a skateboard at their sides. Lestrade could tell that the taller one, Bobby, if he heard correctly, was better at math. Bobby was getting frustrated at explaining a 'simple' concept to the other boy. They were still arguing as they left.

Now he was left in the lift with a woman in her early thirties, who wore a uniform for a local café, khaki trousers and a dark purple polo shirt. According to her name tag, she was called Ruby. She was pretty, long dark hair that was tied back, and had tanned skin. She gave the Detective Inspector a warm smile.

"You're kind of pretty." Her accent was a strange cocktail of London and Texan. "I bet you are just fighting all the girls away with a stick." Ruby eyed him, taking him in. "You want to get a coffee sometime?"

Lestrade flushed. "Sorry," he held up his left hand and wigged his ring finger, showing off the thick gold band. "Already taken. And I don't think _he_ would like it if I went on a date with you."

Ruby's hand flew to her mouth. "Oh, I'm so sorry. I didn't… I'm so…"

He let out a chuckle. "It's alright."

As if it were a blessing, the elevator stopped and Ruby rushed out without saying another word.

Lestrade waited as the lift flew by the remaining floors until it gently stopped on the top floor and he glided out and down the hallway. Most residents who lived in the building most likely didn't know that he and Mycroft were actually the only tenants on the penthouse floor. Years ago, they had debated about where they should move. They opted for this apartment building that was a 15 minute walking distance from the Yard as long as they let them rent, and renovate the entire top floor to do as they'd like. For that kind of money Mycroft put on the table they couldn't refuse. He unlocked the door they used for the main entrance and immediately hung up his coat in the closet.

"You handled that woman quite well. I'm not sure I could have done the same."

Lestrade could see Mycroft's back facing him. He was sitting at one of the computer stations, for sure motoring movements. "You know," he couldn't help but smile. "You really freak me out when you do that."

He saw Mycroft's shoulders shrug as if that was his response and he continued to type away at the keyboard. Lestrade toed off his shoes then stepped forward to see what was consuming his husband's attention on the screen. He wrapped his arms around Mycroft's shoulders and put his chin on the top of his head and sighed deeply. On the screen he could clearly see Sherlock running about the back streets on London, as though in a hurry.

"I worry about him." Mycroft said, sorrow filled his voice.

"He stumbled onto one of my crime scenes today." Lestrade said knowing full well that his husband already knew. "He was incredibly _bored_ by it all. Solved the case in a matter of… well seconds, really."

"Yes, yes. He's put it all on his website already." Mycroft folded his long, thick fingers in a steeple and leaned them against his forehead.

"At least he's not doing the drugs like he used to." Lestrade tried to chime in optimistically. "He was more uncontrollable then."

"Hmm, yes." Mycroft mused thoughtfully. "I just wish…"

"What?" He interrupted and began to rub circles on Mycroft's clothed chest. 

"I almost wish he had someone in this world by his side…" Mycroft sighed wistfully. "Like how I have you." The camera zoomed in to a closer shot of Sherlock exchanging money with some homeless men under a bridge. "Someone to balance him. To make sure he doesn't kill himself one of these days." The camera followed Sherlock as he waved goodbye to the men and dashed off as if he were running in a competitive marathon. "But knowing Sherlock, and I _do_ know Sherlock, he'll never open his heart. He doesn't know or understand how. My greatest fear for him is that he'll end up an old man, the last Holmes', alone in his flat with no friends or family… and won't care."

Silence rang through the air as together they watched Sherlock jump across the tops of buildings and ignore angry citizens as he knocked them down on the street. 

"Things can change." Lestrade broke the silence. His tone trying to be positive, "People can change. You did."

He stepped away as Mycroft turned his chair around to face him. Lestrade nearly gasped when he saw that his husband had been crying. He held Mycroft's head to his chest. "It'll be okay. Maybe Sherlock's guardian angel is right around the corner and we don't know it. Anything can happen in the new year, right?"

Mycroft gazed up at him and smiled. "I suppose you are right, Gregory."

Lestrade burst out laughing. "I'll never get over you calling me by my first name." He hopped off and cocked his head to the door." Come on, let's go get some dinner."

"How about somewhere in New York City? We could see the ball drop live?"

Lestrade laughed again, shaking his head. "If you got the money, I've got the time."

"Fantastic! I'll contact Anthea and arrange for the private jet."

He watched as Mycroft paused for a brief second before turning off the computer monitor. Lestrade took Mycroft's hand, knowing that Sherlock would always be somewhat of a load on Mycroft's shoulders. But he had accepted that long ago. And he would support Mycroft _and_ Sherlock however he could.

**Author's Note:**

> * Kudos are amazing and I will never stop asking for them, but getting comments, actual feedback from readers means so much. Taking five seconds out of your time can really make my day.
>   
> 
> * You can follow me on [tumblr](http://mm8fic.tumblr.com/).
>   
> 


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